A Barrel Full of Apples
by Asher Elric
Summary: The next best thing besides watching a mortal enemy walk off the plank...is a barrael full of apples.


A Barrel Full of Apples

A/m – This was written with help from Nytd. Who read my terrible writing and helped me with the characterization of Barbossa. I thank you most terribly because I have been very busy these last few days and haven't been able to get to this any sooner than I thought I would have.

Enjoy.

--

**A Barrel Full of Apples**

**(The Mutiny of the Black Pearl)**

Reaching into the barrel beside him, Hector Barbossa, the First Mate of the **Black Pearl**, rubbed the fresh green apple against his coat in order to make it shine. Seconds later he took a rather large juicy bite.

It was late at night when he and the crew had gathered together. Crew that he had hand picked himself but that Sparrow was rather stupid to approve of. Three days out of Tortuga would prove fatal for Sparrow, for Barbossa wasn't the sort to take orders from a man who was off his rocker half the time, not to mention the other part of the time drunk off his arse.

"Men," Barbossa nodded to the men that had gathered in the hold. They were a rather scraggly group of pirates, though there were a couple who were blood thirsty and more often than not would start a fight just because they liked the smell, taste and site of blood.

"When do we do this?" someone asked. A round of agreement made it around the group and Barbossa took another bite of his apple. The sweet tangy taste made his mouth shudder.

"Once we get the exact bearin' to the island De' Morta," Barbossa said.

"After that, it's all over…" Barbossa smirked to himself. Sparrow was an irksome fellow to be sure. He didn't know what would happen to that man, but he entertained visions of an island, one shot, and leaving that man on the island in rage _because_ he, Captain Hector Barbossa was the cleverest fellow.

The crew seemed to agree with this but not without some opposition, after all, differing opinions were to be expected. The man of the name Moore popped up from the back; "Why not now?" he asked.

It was silent for a few moments as Barbossa _seemed_ to give this man's question a little thought. Though what he really wanted to do was roll his eyes at the idiocy.

"_Because_…" Barbossa started slowly, as if he were speaking to a three year old.

"Because, if we do it now, we'll not have the bearin's to the island of treasure, therefore, we need Sparrow to give us the directions," Barbossa found the odd urge to add "Savvy?" onto the end of his explanation. But held himself back, he couldn't believe that Sparrow was all ready rubbing off on him. Just for that he'd make sure the island had no water. Smiling, he surveyed the men.

"I shall get the directions in the morning," he said. His tone let the men know that there would be no arguing with him on this point.

After they broke a keg of Rum open and passed it around with cups, the crew started conversing on what exactly it was they would do with their gold. Rum, women and a good meal were the three choices on top of their list.

Barbossa grabbed himself another apple before he made his way onto the deck. The cool night air was refreshing after being in the stinky, moldy hold with other men that hadn't bathed in weeks, maybe even years.

"Barbossa…?"

The man turned to see Bootstrap Bill standing behind him. Barbossa smirked at the obvious knowing in the mans eyes.

"what can I de ye?" Barbossa asked.

"Why?" Bill asked.

"Why what? I'm afraid ye'd better be plain," Barbossa replied.

"Why the mutiny?" Bill asked.

"Well, why not? Ye think Sparrow knows what he's doin'?" Barbossa challenged.

"Well…" apparently Bill thought that Sparrow needed a bit more practice.

"How did Sparrow come across the **Pearl** anyway? Not by the sweat of his brow, that fer certain,"

"You don't know everything," Bill snorted in derision. This just made Barbossa a bit more amused with the whole situation at hand.

"I don't want to be involved," Bill stated.

"Ye ain't, I never saw you at any of our get-togethers,"

"It doesn't change that what you are doing is wrong. Why not wait, either way you'll still get your fair share," Bill replied.

"There be the crux of it fer certain, young man," Barbossa said with a bit of sarcasm.

"Look, you don't know anything about Jack, he's actually pretty…"

"Stupid? Careless? Doltish? Bovine? Brainless?" Barbossa threw out.

"I was going to say _adroit_," Bill rolled his eyes.

"It seems that our opinions differ immensely," Barbossa said.

"It would seem so," Bill replied.

"Let's make us an accord then," Barbossa said.

"You get the directions to the island and not hurt Jack," Bill said.

"And what do I get from you in return?" Barbossa asked.

"I just _won't_ let your plans get out to the Captain, otherwise, he'll make sure you never get it, savvy?" Bill said, only driving his point home by using the one word that grated against Barbossa's nerves, not that he would tell anyone that particular secret.

"Very well, Bootstrap, we have an accord?"

The men shook hands briefly. Bill turned his back on Barbossa to continue on towards the helm, it was time for him to relieve the man on duty.

Barbossa enjoyed the night air and his apple on deck, entertaining ideas of how he might _not_ hurt Sparrow.

--

He was lucky to have found tea spoon of the concoction. He didn't know what the ship surgeon had in his medicine chest. But, he knew it would be enough to knock a grown man out for a while.

--

Sunup found Barbossa knocking on Jack Sparrow's door. Barbossa didn't honor the man with the title of "Captain" and let Jack know, much to the other's chagrin.

Jack opened it, looking rather worse for wear, smelling of rum, but lucid for once.

"Ah, Barbossa, what can I do for you?" Jack asked. His makeup was slightly smeared, as if he hadn't slept all night. Jack turned his back on Barbossa and sauntered back to his desk where he had many charts laying about.

Barbossa put the mug of coffee on the desk and smirked as Jack snatched it up. Besides rum, the pirate _child_ liked coffee.

"Say, Jack," Barbossa couldn't help that please grin on his face. The man before him gulped greedily at the coffee.

"What exactly be the bearin' to the Isle De' Muerta?" Barbossa asked. Jack looked up at him and blinked. He opened his mouth and his eyes rolled as he tried to think. He didn't know why his brain moved so slowly when a few moments before it had been racing with thoughts.

"Why do…ya…wanna…know….?" Jack swayed dizzily, looking around perplexedly; Jack wondered why he felt so weird all of a sudden. It wasn't a feeling he normally had and…for some odd reason he trusted the man before him more than he thought he did. So why then couldn't he give Barbossa the barings to the island? It wouldn't hurt anything now, would it?

"Come now, Jack, tell me the bearin's…" Barbossa coaxed.

The voice in the back of his head resisted the friendly tone Barbossa had taken with him but…the urge to tell was just so overpowering that soon the voice was silenced all together.

It was as if he had stepped out of his body. There he was, slumped over his maps, shivering with sickness. Barbossa stood before him, unsympathetic and smirking. Jack saw himself give up the coordinates before falling over to the deck dead cold.

As blackness took over him, he swore he'd get his revenge on Barbossa, no matter what it meant. No matter what Barbossa did to him, Jack knew that he would kill the man.

--

Barbossa emerged on deck, work stopped and he held up the piece of paper he had wrote the headings on. A cheer went up from the group and he smiled lecherously at his victory.

"Today!" he cried out, "Be the day we shall always remember!"

Another cheer, and with that, Barbossa knew that one thread was left to tie up and then the mutiny would be complete.

--

The satisfying splash of his vanquished enemy was like music to his ears. Munching on another apple, Barbossa watched as Sparrow made his way to the island that Barbossa had hand picked to leave him at.

He knew he'd never see Sparrow again. There was no water on that island and the fruit trees were poisonous. So, even if Sparrow held out on the bullet to the brain, he'd die of poison or starvation.

He turned to Bootstrap who had watched as his friend of many years had been forced off the ship.

"Ye see," Barbossa said to the man who didn't turn towards him.

"I upheld my end,"

Bill shuddered as the man behind him said this, and then went on to give orders….

….and munched on a barrel full of apples.

**The End**


End file.
